Summary

The author discusses their personal journey of creating a food heritage and culture, drawing from various ethnic backgrounds and embracing a diverse range of holiday cuisines, reflecting on the concept of "American" cuisine as a synthesis of immigrant traditions.

Abstract

The article "Forming a Food Heritage" delves into the author's experience of lacking a strong cultural heritage and their subsequent quest to forge a unique food culture. Despite being a mix of Italian, German, and other European ancestries, the author feels a disconnect from any specific food tradition. To fill this void, they have begun to celebrate a variety of international holidays through food, adapting recipes and creating their own traditions. This culinary exploration includes German sauerkraut and kielbasa for New Year's, Slovenian chicken paprikash for Kurentovanje, Irish potato boxty for St. Patrick's Day, Mexican enchiladas for Cinco de Mayo, and many others. The author's approach to food is not about achieving authenticity but about giving a personal nod to the vibrancy and meaning of different cultures. The article also touches on the broader question of whether there is such a thing as "American" cuisine, suggesting that it is a radically pluralistic synthesis of diverse immigrant traditions, continually evolving and reflecting the nation's melting pot culture.

Opinions

The author expresses a yearning to belong to a specific cultural heritage, particularly through food.
There is an appreciation for the vibrancy and meaning of food cultures associated with specific countries or regions.
The author enjoys adapting holiday traditions to suit their own family's preferences and dietary choices, such as using turkey kielbasa instead of pork.
The concept of "American" cuisine is seen as a diverse and pluralistic blend of immigrant traditions, with roots that are continually sprouting in new directions.
The author believes that celebrations, especially when shared through food, have the power to connect people and make life better.
There is a recognition that the term "American" is flawed when discussing cuisine, as it often neglects the broader continental context.
The author endorses Ruth Tobias' view that American food is a synthesis of old and new cuisines, created as immigrants adapt their traditions in their adopted homeland.
The author is critical of the tendency to dismiss American traditions as too new or shallow, advocating instead for a

Forming a Food Heritage

Creating a culture, for those of us who didn’t inherit one

When I was a kid, I liked to tell people I was Italian, because I thought it made me seem cooler than I actually was.

Truth be told, while I come from a closely-knit family with many beloved and enduring traditions, I don’t really have a cultural heritage. I’m pretty much a mutt, through and through.

I’m 25% Italian (hence the exaggeration), 25% German, and 50% mish-mash of most other European countries

None of these percentages are enough to instill in me a sense of belonging, of completeness, like I’m part of something bigger and older than me.

My mom is a fabulous cook by her own right, but we don’t really have a plethora of favorite family recipes passed down for generations. I proudly possess index cards, cookbooks, and binders that once belonged to my Grandma Lambert, my namesake and the first person on either side of my family to go to college (Home Economics). She was a whiz in the kitchen, but none of her recipes really speak to a food culture per se, one that’s connected to a specific country.

Of course, I’m fortunate to have deeply-ingrained food memories from childhood that are strongly associated with family. I wouldn’t trade them for the world, but just like the kid pretending to be full-blooded Italian, I find myself envious of those with a food heritage associated with a country or region that they can embrace as their own.

It’s human nature to want to be part of something, isn’t it?

I realized recently that since I was not born into a food culture, I’m drawn to the vibrancy and meaning of everyone else’s. I adore holidays from other countries, and while I’m really not aiming for authenticity, I enjoy giving them a nod, in my own way.

I suppose I’m creating my own mish-mash food culture (to go along with my mish-mash heritage) one celebration at a time.

A calendar of holiday cuisines

New Year’s is for sauerkraut and kielbasa, a nod to my German roots as well as my childhood. Long after she became vegetarian, my mom would make sauerkraut and pork for the rest of the family. These days, we veer from tradition by using turkey kielbasa, as we rarely eat pork or beef anymore.

Then the Slovenian holiday of Kurentovanje — marked by my first attempt at chicken paprikash this year, with imported paprika ordered specifically for the occasion. No Slovenian blood flows through my veins, but I have fallen in love with this festival and its worthy goal of chasing winter away.

St. Patrick’s Day follows, this year complete with potato boxty. With a last name like Dillon, we’d be remiss if we didn’t celebrate! Enchiladas mark Cinco de Mayo (though I will eventually succumb to my burning desire to make tamales from scratch!).

Warm weather is all about grilling (which stretches back to the cavemen, ancestry we all share!), starting on Memorial Day and driving on through to Labor Day, with Summer Solstice and the 4th of July in between.

We’re a bit obsessed with Halloween, rooted in the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain, and I traditionally put out quite a spread for whoever can join us on trick or treat night. The food most associated with Halloween for me, though, (aside from candy) is Deviled Beet Eggs. They’re basically what they sound like — beet-pickled hard-boiled eggs, by request of my husband who doesn’t even like beets, crafted into deviled eggs. They’re gorgeously magenta and just creepy enough for All Hallows’ Eve.

From Thanksgiving through to New Year’s again, it’s a whirlwind of cooking, baking, entertaining, visiting and celebrating. It’s dry-brined roast turkey with enough sides to feed an army. It’s a quiet pot of soup as we light the candles for the Winter Solstice. It’s dozens of cookies with origins in numerous countries to share and to serve at parties (and to wish we had fewer of when we’re still eating them in March!).

It’s Christmas brunch in our pajamas, smoked trout-topped potato latkes (honoring both Europe and Hanukkah) and mini frittatas with a pomegranate-champagne punch on the side. It’s a leisurely dinner, often vegetarian, and wassail with family later in the evening.

Someday, I’ll manage to get started early enough in the season to create a proper English pudding!

There are myriad other holidays I‘d like to add to the list, starting with Chinese New Year (which I’m ashamed we haven’t done yet since we have family members who are Chinese-American!) and Diwali, India’s festival of lights (in honor of my marvelous colleagues from India).

Celebrations make life better, after all, and when they’re shared, they connect us.

Is there such a thing as “American” cuisine?

“…not merely diverse but radically pluralistic, its roots exposed rather than buried even as they sprout in new directions” — Ruth Tobias

There are lots of us, here in the United States, aren’t there? Mutts, of various types, avidly seeking and embracing the cultures of other countries, whether they’re truly any part of our own heritage or not.

As Ruth Tobias notes, American food is a synthesis, brought about as immigrants “adapt their traditions and techniques to their adopted homeland and vice versa to create a new version of an old cuisine” or in some cases creating a new cuisine altogether.

(I understand, as does Tobias, that the term “American” as commonly used is innately flawed, given that the United States — despite what some would have us believe — is not the only country in North/Central/South America.)

Sometimes it feels as if it’s popular to look down our noses at the US of A, even for those of us who were born and raised here. It’s too new, roots are too shallow, traditions are obscured by the blending of cultures.

But Tobias describes “an American cuisine that’s not merely diverse but radically pluralistic, its roots exposed rather than buried even as they sprout in new directions”.

That’s a beautiful way of describing our melting pot, as home cooks and restauranteurs drive the evolution of the foods of their ancestors by incorporating the best of what’s around them.

And that’s a culture I can embrace!

“Pull up a chair. Take a taste. Come join us. Life is so endlessly delicious.” — Ruth Reichl

Want to stay in touch? Click here to sign up for my weekly newsletter.